Amalgam
Mostly, what I didn’t know didn’t hurt me
until it did. The filling felt good, solid,
strong & forever. It was what people did
back then, when they could. I was glad
I would not wind up like my father, toothless
& old & alone. I accepted an amalgam
willingly, if not with full knowledge
that lead leaches out over time & builds up
in the body, sometimes seen later in X-ray
as a silver bracelet or anklet or ring.
That is not to say I regret getting the filling
or it was all bad—I don’t, & it wasn’t.
It plugged an aching void & lasted most
of my life, 46 years. We were a team.
When the time came to remove it, I hoped
for an easy extraction, replacement
with something less toxic & reactive, then
to go on as before. But the filling was
welded to bone, wedded to me in every cell.
When the drill bit in, my tooth crumbled
like spackle around a core stronger than what
it had filled. My tongue was incredulous,
seeking the hole in my gum, a deep, branching
chasm where roots used to be.
One kind of pain exchanged for another.
Metal still in my body, shining bright in bone.
How could I have imagined divorce
would be otherwise?
